Dean introduces Sam to Ainsley. It doesn't go well.
Beacon Hills College
September 22, 2013
Ainsley calmly flips through the pages of a novel held in her hands. Whether she was contacted before people would show up to meet her is unclear, since she's engrossed in the story. Notably, she's wearing a pair of glasses, and she idly fiddles with what seems to be a silver locket between her fingertips. It's late afternoon, well after most classes have concluded and most people have already left the college grounds. She could just be enjoying the cool air, or she could be waiting for someone.
She's definitely waiting for someone! Because that someone arrives soon after, with someone else in tow! Dean's cheerful about all of this, though before they get too close, he turns and fusses over what Sam's wearing, dusting off his shoulders, pulling at a sleeve here and there. "Good. Okay. Don't freak out on me." Sam gets a poke to the chest for that, whatever reason, and then Dean turns back on his path, waving to Ainsley once he's close enough. "Hey!"
Sam Winchester frowns at his brother's fussing, letting out an exasperated sound. "Dean, what's this all about? What aren't you telling me?" Shaking his head, he follows after Dean, stuffing hands in the pockets of his jacket and hunching his shoulders a bit. His brows draw together when Dean greets the young woman, and he looks her over suspiciously, whispering, "Is this a case?"
The dour-looking woman raises her head. Ains turns her attention first to Sam, and the exchange is definitely not missed. While they figure it out among themselves, she gives a quiet wave back to Dean and a wan smile, and then busies herself with stuffing the novel back into the fanny pack. She's a weird woman who uses one of those instead of a purse, by the way she has to rearrange the contents when shoving the book in there. Then she straightens her posture and waits with her brows lifted, giving an affect like she didn't hear the whispering.
"Not exactly. Come on." Dean reaches out to throw an arm around Sam and, incidentally, uses the arm to kind of jostle him along. He's probably thinking what a chore Sam can be sometimes, but Sam's probably thinking the same of Dean. Still, Dean is delighted that Sam is now awake, now accompanying him on his journeys again, and to be honest, he's a little...overenthusiastic. He's kind of overdoing it. "Ainsley! Good to see you! This is my baby brother Sammy."
Sam Winchester has to hunch just a bit more to walk along with Dean's arm around his shoulder, giving Ainsley a somewhat uncomfortable smile. "Nice to meet you, Ainsley," he says pleasantly enough, though there's still suspicion in his eyes as he looks her over again. What the heck is Dean up to this time? "You're a student here, I take it?"
Ainsley looks entertained by the exchange between both of them, and the uncomfortable brother. "Hola, Sam," she greets, in her soft Spanish accent. "That's right. I'm a nursing student. I'm actually doing an internship program at the Memorial Hospital, but I have classes here and in San Fransisco." She points off in the vague direction of the hospital. "Do I have a stain on my shirt?" she wonders, calling attention to the discomfort and suspicion and genuinely looking down at her black shirt in search for said stain. "Hmm..."
Dean reaches down and swats Sam on the ass, though it's not exactly easy to see it from the front, the way he does it. He keeps smiling, of course. "Sammy, don't be rude. Ainsley's my buddy and we got some stuff to talk about. She's cool, so don't make this weird."
Sam Winchester tenses at the swat, then shrugs his slouching shoulders, trying to look relaxed. "That's fine," he says, shifting his weight to one foot. "Just...not sure what I'm doing here. If you two have business to discuss, maybe I should wait in the car."
And that's when Ainsley rolls her eyes. She carefully removes her glasses to set them aside and addresses Sam in a calm tone of voice. "Hi. Your brother," she indicates with a hand to Dean, "Saved me from a zombie that was out to murder me for... some reason. I'm from an old hunter family, apparently. And..." She holds up one index finger, pausing for dramatic effect. She leans in to say this in a quieter tone, "I'm a werewolf." She straightens in her seat and splays her fingers on that hand and makes a placating gesture preemptively, "And that's why he told you not to freak out." Because she DID hear that, even when they were a fair distance away from her.
Dean makes a "told you so" gesture, then kind of pushes at Sam mid-back. "Plus, there's the wendigo problem around here. And that ain't exactly something you can make too light of. So I thought we'd come up here and you could meet her, we could trade information, we can get to doin' our thing. I got a lot goin' on, the past couple months."
Sam Winchester's hands are yanked from his pockets as he takes a step back, eyes widening. "What? Whoa, what?" His head turns rapidly back and forth, as he looks between Dean and Ainsley, and he begins searching his pockets again, stepping back twice more. "A werewolf? Dean, have you lost your mind? That thing's a killer!" He finally finds what he was looking for, a handful of silver bullets, and his other hand grabs the pistol from the jacket's inner pocket, as he continues backpeddling.
His reaction doesn't seem to surprise Ainsley. She does frown at Sam, though, his panic clearly drawing her attention away from his face and to the silver bullets. "First of all," she begins, "Those won't do shit." She points at the silver bullets. "Wrong type of werewolf. Though I'm not sure how I'd do with head shots, actually." She carefully gathers herself up to a stand while he's freaking out, like he was told not to do. "Dean?" she prompts. "He better not try to shoot me at this college."
Dean just reaches out and grabs the gun, then elbows Sam. Hard. "I said don't make this weird. Don't you think if I was hangin' out with a werewolf, I'd have a reason? We already been through this, Sammy. Calm your ass down. We need to work with Ainsley, not try to blow her away. I woulda thought you would be the one to try and talk sense into me about buddyin' up with werewolves."
Sam Winchester struggles to keep a grip on the pistol, the bullets spilling out of his other hand. "You have lost your mind," he growls, yanking hard on the weapon. "Since when do we work with the monsters? What the hell happened to you while I was in a coma?" He narrows his eyes, giving Dean a hard look. "It's the angel, isn't it? He screwed with your head."
As the exchange carries on, Ainsley calmly walks over and crouches down to pick up the silver bullets, one by one, and hold them out at Sam. She silently raises her brows and watches him. The silver really is doing absolutely nothing to her. "As fun as it is to watch you freak out," she says, in a tone that suggests that it doesn't amuse her, "You should hold onto these." A beat, where she seems to realize something. "Wait..." She mouths the word 'angel' to herself, momentarily taken aback.
"Sorry about this Ainsley, he's been in a coma for two months and apparently it messed up his head." Dean mutters, and he reaches up to smack Sam upside the head. Which is what you do when you figure someone has had a head injury. Maybe Dean figures it'll reboot him in a way. "Sammy! You need to remember all those times even dad told us. Can't assume things like that. And you sure ain't gonna come off good if you draw at a freakin' college campus!"
Sam Winchester winces at the smack, then grumbles under his breath as he pockets both the gun and the bullets. "This is crazy, Dean. She's a self-confessed werewolf, and the Full Moon's less than a week away. What're you doing, getting in bed with a...." He slowly turns toward Ainsley again, letting out a long breath. "I don't believe it. I don't freakin' believe it." He shakes his head a Dean, scowling darkly. "That's it, isn't it? You...Ugh, I can't even...!" He turns away, kicking at the fallen leaves on the path.
Ainsley gives Sam a look that he's probably not going to forget, when he assumes she slept with Dean. Most emotion just drains out of her face, her eyes flicker a faint yellow and it's like she just barely avoided punching him by the way her knuckles ominously crackle, her fingers flexing. "Sam," she rumbles, her Spanish accent filtering in, and then her hand doing that little 'shushing' motion where she presses her fingers together. She sounds commanding and very displeased. "Do you know what's crazy? I got attacked by wendigos. I got bitten by a werewolf. I regularly run into vampires and other supernatural bullshit. I just found out that... angels are real. And you know what pisses me off more than all of that?" She doesn't answer that, because the point where she actually got angry is pretty clear. "So either we talk, or I leave. I don't have time for this."
Dean...is pretty angry too, and for much of the same reasons as Ainsley. He's going to sock Sam. He really is. But then he just stops himself, takes a deep breath, and sighs it out, reaching over to yank Sam around by the shoulder. "I did not nail Ainsley. We haven't even swapped spit, Sam. I saved her from a zombie and she chose to confide in me because she got bit. But apparently there are some good wolf types around teaching her to control herself so she doesn't freak out and eat someone." Dean's heated, getting up in Sam's face. "And I resent the implication that I only care if someone's puttin' out!!" Now it's his turn to turn away, huffing and folding his arms over his chest.
Sam Winchester clenches his fists at his sides, gritting his teeth through both Ainsley's and Dean's angery words. "Fine," he says at last. "She's not a bad monster, she's a good monster." Because that always works out so well for the Winchesters. He shoots a glare in Ainsley's direction, stuffing his fists back into his jacket pockets. "So you want to talk? Talk. I'm all ears."
"Great." Ainsley calms, but it's clear the damage is done. "I'm going to start from the top: There's not a wendigo problem. They got driven out. What is a real problem is the witch that might come down here. The witch that, if what I hear is true, has the power to make entire towns vanish as if they were never there. A witch that can capture and curse werewolves and turn them into Cujo but bigger, like the one that bit me." And then she crosses her arms. "In exchange for your help, I can help you with your cases. Ever need a bloodhound?"
Dean glares at Sam before looking back to Ainsley. "Sounds pretty hardcore. I know a witch or two AND NO I DIDN'T FUCK THEM," this is aimed at Sam, without entirely turning around to look at him, before he returns his full attention to Ainsley. "So maybe if I ask around, I can dig up something. Of course, when he hasn't got his head up his ass, Sam here's way better at research than me."
Sam Winchester takes his hands from the pockets, only to cross his arms over his chest. "Sure, I can research your witch for you, no problem," he says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Should be pretty easy to dig up information on a practitioner powerful enough to make whole towns disappear into thin air. Pretty sure Bobby's got a witch-killing spell we can use. And once we defeat the witch, we'll all kick back and bond over beer and cheeseburgers."
Ainsley blinks slowly at Sam, and all attempts at talking to him are discarded. She turns around to go pick up her clearly fake glasses and stuff them into the pack where the book was placed earlier. She only flashes one more look at Sam, but the yellow gaze is clear this time. She's absolutely livid, yet the mask of calm's only crack is those eyes. It fades only when she turns to stalk toward her car.
Dean turns to face Sam. "It's like I don't even know you. Asshole!" He shoves, and powerfully, at his brother, and then hurries to catch Ainsley up. "Ainsley! I'm sorry about Sam. I don't know what got into him. He just got out of a coma three days ago...I dunno. But I'll be in touch. You're my buddy and I'm gonna come through for you. I got your back." It's genuine, honest, and he doesn't press it -- just says his piece and then turns back around to stalk back in Sam's direction. There is going to be a kind of reckoning.